


nothing good can grow

by theevilcleavage



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 02:35:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8603851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theevilcleavage/pseuds/theevilcleavage
Summary: Sometimes Ivy wishes she could leave Gotham City for good.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I am still in denial about the election so I am basically doing lots of writing so that I never have to face the truth.
> 
> Please enjoy this attempt to escape from our insane reality.
> 
> Oh, and let me know what you think in the comments! I love feedback of any kind :)

Sometimes Ivy wishes she could leave Gotham City for good.

She’d go somewhere warm instead. Somewhere with lots of quiet and sunlight, and she’d spend every day wandering through lush forests and every night staring up at the stars. 

In Gotham, the sky is bare and polluted. Even on the darkest nights, not a single star burns bright enough to shine through the haze. 

Ivy has grown so tired of looking at it, of living under that pale, ugly sky. 

She’s tired of living in such a corrupt, backward place, a place where selfish businessmen have all the power and large corporations make it their mission to destroy Mother Earth. She’s tired of waking up to the sound of sirens, tired of the musk of thick, polluted air. She’s tired of old brick buildings and cracked sidewalks, of cold, dreary mornings and clouds that never seem to part. 

But most of all, Ivy is tired of fighting. She’s tired of wasting her time trying to better a place where nothing good ever grows. 

Over the past few years the city has drained most of the life out her, left her starving for the sweet embrace of lush, wild nature, and Ivy often daydreams about escaping. On more than one occasion, she has seriously considered boarding a plane to South America and finding a new home in a vast, fecund area of rainforest.

It’s just a pipe dream, of course. A harmless fantasy that helps her through her darker days. 

After all, Ivy won’t ever leave Gotham City. Not unless Harley Quinn goes with her. 

“We could go anywhere, Harl. Anywhere in the world!”

It’s an argument Ivy has made many times. A desperate attempt to get her friend out of the city and away from her abuser. But Harley always dismisses the idea.

“Aw, come on, Red,” she says, with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “Gotham ain’t much worse than any place else. And besides, I can’t jus’ leave Mistah Jay all alone like that. What if he needs me?” 

Harley doesn’t change her mind, no matter how many times Ivy asks her, and so they both remain in Gotham for the foreseeable future. And everything, every rotten thief and crumbling sidewalk, eats away at Ivy's soul. 

* * * * *

On a cold, rainy Tuesday, Harley shows up at her apartment half-naked, cradling her right arm against her chest. 

“Hiya, Red,” she croaks, smiling despite her split lip. “Can I crash here ta night?”

Ivy tugs her inside right away, out of the cold and into the cloying warmth of her apartment. Harley is shivering badly, so Ivy helps her out of her wet clothes and wraps her up in a big, fluffy towel. Her plants can sense Harley’s distress and they keep trying to reach out to caress her face. Ivy gently encourages them to give Harley some space.

“What was it this time?” Ivy asks, sitting Harley down on the couch and kneeling in front of her to tend to her injuries. “Another ‘accident’?”

Harley starts bouncing nervously in place. 

“I dunno,” she admits, and Ivy has to bite down on her tongue to keep from screaming. “But I bet he’s real sorry he got all rough with me.”

Ivy barks out a laugh. 

“Oh, I’m sure he’s sorry,” she says, with no small amount of venom. “Sorry he didn’t finish the job.”

Harley stops bouncing and her smile slips.

“Mistah Jay just likes ta play a little rough sometimes,” she says, refusing to meet Ivy’s gaze. “But my puddin’ loves me, honest.”

“Of course he does,” Ivy murmurs. She doesn’t feel like giving another lecture on feminism or basic self-respect, so she doesn’t. Instead, she gently applies a few select ointments to Harley’s body and watches her injuries slowly begin to heal. 

“You can have my bed,” Ivy says, rising abruptly to her feet. “I’ll be in the greenhouse.”

“Oh.” Harley bites her lip, staring up at Ivy with big, hopeful eyes. “Couldja…couldja stay with me ta night? I jus’ don’ wanna be alone. And-” She stops, her cheeks coloring as she stares resolutely down at her lap.

Ivy kneels down in front of her again and places her hands on Harley’s knees, careful to keep her posture open and relaxed and unthreatening. 

“And what, sweet pea?” 

Harley looks up and meets Ivy’s gaze with wide, nervous eyes. 

“An’ I feel safe with you,” she whispers. 

Ivy's chest tightens painfully and she leans in to press a gentle kiss to Harley’s forehead. 

“Yeah, Harl,” she says. “Of course I’ll stay.”

* * * * *

Some days, when Harley is staying over, Ivy lets her hang out in the greenhouse while she works. 

The plants are comfortable around Harley, and by now they’re even used to the sound of her voice. Harley likes to talk to them while Ivy’s working on her latest projects, even though they can’t respond, except to reach out and curl lovingly around her arms and legs. 

Harley names each of them and talks to them like they’re close, intimate friends. At first Ivy thinks that she’s just humoring her, just putting on a show to prove that she’s comfortable in Ivy’s world. But sometimes Harley will lower her voice and whisper soft, little secrets to them, and in those moments Ivy is sure that it isn’t just for her benefit. 

One day, when Harley’s all muddy from kneeling in the dirt to help Ivy plant a few sprouts in the soil, Ivy calls over a few of her plants to create a shower for her. Ivy makes it rain lightly for just a short while, the falling water reflecting off of the sunlight that streams through the glass, casting strips of rainbow light across the room.

Harley loves that. She giggles happily and spins in circles under the cool spray of water, tugging Ivy along with her until they’re both soaking wet and smiling. 

They’re still standing underneath that shower when Harley throws her arms around Ivy’s neck and kisses her for the very first time. 

And Ivy, her heart pounding in her chest, eagerly kisses back. 

* * * * *

From then on, Ivy does everything she can to make Harley bloom.

It’s hard sometimes, because they’re stuck in Gotham, and because they’re both damaged and sick and plagued by bad memories. But Ivy does her best. 

Mostly, she tries not to lose her temper so much. It seems like whenever Ivy snaps and speaks her mind, Harley ends up hurt or angry or both. And Ivy knows she can be unnecessarily cruel to her, and far colder than she means to be. And in those moments, when she’s tearing down her best friend and reducing her to tears, Ivy supposes she isn’t much better than the Joker.

So Ivy tries to work on that, on reigning herself in when it seems like she might go overboard. And she works on supporting Harley, and protecting her, and helping her grow. 

Even if that means releasing her back to the Joker over and over again, just to watch her stumble again and fall. 

Even if that means waking up time and time again to an empty house and a small, handwritten note that reads “I’m sorry, Red” in small, curly script. 

* * * * *

In their more intimate moments, tangled together under the sheets, Ivy presses tender, reverent kisses to every inch of Harley’s skin and tells her how smart and beautiful and brave she is. Harley never believes her, but Ivy tells her anyway and hopes that someday the words will stick. 

And eventually, when they’re together for the very first time, Ivy tries to be as careful and attentive as possible. 

The response she receives is a little unexpected. 

“Ya don’t hafta be so gentle with me,” Harley says, squirming underneath her as she tries to pull their bodies closer together. “You can hurt me if you wanna.”

Ivy blinks at her, and swallows down the rage that threatens to overwhelm her. She breathes in and out, and tries not to think of the Joker’s wide, split smile, of his hands and his teeth bruising and tearing at Harley’s skin. But the image lingers in her mind anyway, even as she presses a kiss to Harley’s cheek and shakes her head. 

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Harley frowns a bit, her faced scrunched up in confusion, but she doesn’t stop Ivy from leaning in and kissing her, and continuing her exploration. 

From there, Ivy takes her time. She presses warm, wet kisses to every inch of skin she can reach. She whispers soft, loving words against Harley’s neck and tells her she’s perfect, tells her how long she’s wanted to be able to love her like this. 

Harley’s panties are completely soaked through before Ivy ever touches her. And there is a sort of panicked look in her eyes, like she doesn’t quite get what Ivy’s doing or why her body is responding the way that it is. 

Ivy tries her best to be reassuring.

“Just tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

Harley nods, her cheeks flushed bright red, but she doesn’t say “stop” and everything about her expression seems to be begging Ivy to continue. 

So she does. And in the end, Harley comes with a soft cry, Ivy’s fingers curled deep inside of her. It’s the most gorgeous thing Ivy’s ever seen, more beautiful than any of her babies could ever hope to be, and Ivy wants to preserve the image in her mind forever. 

As Harley comes down from her high, Ivy leans in close and notices that she’s blinking back tears.

“Harl?” Ivy shifts so that she’s lying on her side, facing Harley. A part of her is terrified that she’s done something awful to warrant this reaction. “Harley, are you all right?”

Harley chokes back a sob and shakes her head. Instead of offering any more of a response, she curls into Ivy’s chest, her warm, wet tears dripping onto Ivy’s bare shoulder.

“Harley?”

Ivy hears a few soft sniffles, and then Harley responds in a hoarse whisper.

“It’s never been like that for me before,” she says, her words slightly muffled against Ivy’s skin. “I jus’…I never thought…”

A fresh wave of tears overtakes her, and Ivy's arms tighten imperceptibly around her.

* * * * *

The next time Harley returns to the Joker, she says goodbye first.

Ivy walks her to the front door, her heart heavy as she and Harley exchange deep, desperate kisses. 

“I don’ wanna go,” Harley whispers, her forehead pressed against Ivy’s. “But I hafta see ‘im, Red. I jus'...I can’t stop.”

“I know,” Ivy says. Her arms are impossibly tight around Harley’s waist. “But I could force you to stay, you know. Compel you, like all of those men I’ve kissed.”

“But ya won’t,” Harley says, and hidden in her sad, weary smile is a note of longing. “Guess that’s kinda why I love you.”

* * * * *

One day, Ivy swears, she’ll get Harley out of this horrible city. She’ll bring her somewhere far away and she’ll bloom so beautifully, without anything blocking her sunlight. 

But for now, Ivy watches her wilt and droop, dying a slow death at the hands of her own, debilitating compulsion. 

It’s true what they say, Ivy thinks, as she tends to her new patch of hydrangeas. The Bat always saves the day. The sun will rise and set. 

And nothing good grows in Gotham City.


End file.
